


Glad You Came

by sillypandalover91



Series: Houndverse [3]
Category: South Park
Genre: Bottom Tweek Tweak, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Experienced Tweek, Hurt/Comfort, Mafia AU with a twist, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Pining, Older Tweek, Pining Craig Tucker, Pining Tweek Tweak, Romance, Secret Organizations, Sorta a slow burn?, Top Craig Tucker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillypandalover91/pseuds/sillypandalover91
Summary: Craig didn't ask to become an operative in a secret organization tasked to infiltrate the mob and slowly poison it to death on behalf of the King of the Underworld himself. But he is and never let it be said that he isn't pulling his weight. Somebody has to keep his bestfriends and pack safe.Having worked his way up to the rank of a Hellhound and Alpha of his pack, he is tasked to go undercover as a heavy weight boxer in order to gain access to a drug lord and his parties where he conducts his business with out Vargas approval.The objective is simple. Execution, not so much. Especially because said drug lord's lover is none other than a Diamond and former acquaintance that he may or may not have a crush on.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I once said that most of my writing happens in my head during commutes? Well now I drive all day to get to patients homes and I have long periods of movies just playing in my head while I listen to music. For a long time it was just about Love Has No Recipe and my Hound Universe. This story is set in that universe with the same characters. If any of you follow that other story, you will recognize a lot of names and some events that are mentioned.. You don't have to read it to understand as this is a different story on its own. 
> 
> Also, fair warning, all I've been writing as of late are patient reports :( so this story is mostly for me to get back into writing fiction, ha!
> 
> Thank you so much @yoshifan8 for joining me on this journey through the Hound verse and being a wonderful beta reader and just as amazing friend!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Synapses are connections—relays, really—that fire one right after another, working together to make sense of the world and your place in it. For a good majority of the population, these synapses are cultivated by what a person experiences. A baby hears their family’s language and voices and start to compartmentalize these in their tiny, magnificent brains.

They learn how to talk and walk—each skill, new synapses. Muscle and sensory memories develop, influencing what that kid will like and be like. Memories of what makes them happy, angry, sad also begin to shape this tiny person but it all stems from the tiniest unit of life.

A cell; and that cell’s relationship to other cells. And how that cell is going to respond is coded by its DNA. It’s in their symbolic blood if you will.

So how does a child of the mob grow up when born into an underworld at war?

Craig and his friends were lucky to have been infants at the time. His mother, Laura Perez-Tucker of the Peruvian syndicate, had begged his father to run. Had told him that the Vargas Family did not deserve their loyalty until they figured out who was going to lead them.

Had Thomas Tucker, heir to the Irish Syndicate, been a lesser man, he might’ve struck her like how Craig had occasionally seen others do to their wives. But Thomas was a good man, who despite every synapse in his brain screaming at him to take his men and fight for the Main Branch’s Leader and true King—Romulus Vargas, chose to do whatever it took to ease his wife. The screams were quelled when said King gave him his blessing.

“ _Take your treasure and leave_ ,” he had told Thomas, “ _I’ll handle my brother_.”

Apparently, there were ships prepared by an ally to the Vargas, the Jones from America, that were waiting for anyone wanting to escape Europe. Papers would be fixed so that they could go straight into hiding without fear of getting ratted out by Remus’ spies and sent back.

Thomas went reluctantly and stiffly with his wife and cooing son to one of the docking sites of said ships in Italy. They were accompanied by the Donovan patriarch, the sole adult survivor, who had wanted to find a safe place to raise his son as well. It was when they were waiting at one of the safe houses that they heard about it.

The Vargas Massacre that had annihilated all allies to the Main branch and rumor had it—enslaved those that managed to escape with their lives.

Craig hadn’t even been three months old yet. But his son’s big blue eyes and innocent coos while grasping his finger when he held him and cried into his black hair had been louder than the voice telling him to rally what was left of the Tuckers to avenge their fallen allies.

_I need to take my treasure and run._

And they didn’t stop running. Not when they disembarked from the ship at New York Harbor. Not when Laura abandoned her maiden name and Thomas his accent.

It wasn’t until he found them a home in some desolate mountain town so ridiculous and remote that they knew Remus and his side branch family would never find them, did they finally stop.

The Donovons had run alongside them, something that Thomas had only allowed because Craig deserved to have a friend that knew what it was like to be born like him. What he hadn’t counted on was that the Blacks had the same idea and had it not been for their mutual respect and debt to the Jones’ Matriarch who had welcomed them to the safety of their territory, they probably would have killed each other on the spot in their paranoia.

Despite their less than pleasant start, the three families had grown close due to kinship of being shielded by the Vargas Sun. Their three babies growing up together had been a blessing and perhaps even a curse as they were inseparable, so they couldn’t even go their own way if they wanted to.

The three boys had been 3 years old and enjoying the beginnings of summer in the Tucker’s backyard while their dads surrounded a barbecue pit and their moms made sure they didn’t wander off when they were found.

 

 


	2. From Pup to Hound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the things that happen to Craig sometimes feel out of his control from moving away to some island with his friends to going into a profession that involves him going on missions that involve him infiltrating the damn mafia. At least his best friends are by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a new chapter, just reorganizing it.

The earliest memory Craig can recall vividly was the first time he was allowed to play in the snow. He remembered how he stumbled after his dad as Thomas went to go fetch the newspaper from the lawn and instantly became mesmerized by the blue and green hues he saw reflected in the snow of the last few moments of darkness lingered in the morning. Craig had fallen in love with the color and begged his mom to let him go with his dad every morning to retrieve the newspaper. Much to his parent’s amusement, he did less retrieving and more staring at the snow.

The second most vivid memory was the time when he and his two best friends were enjoying the beginnings of summer in the Tucker’s backyard while their dads surrounded a barbecue pit and their moms made sure they didn’t wander off.

Paulo Vargas, Romulus’ only son and enforcer had come to South Park and was met with a tiny middle finger to the face when asked if this was the Tucker residence—an instinct Craig’s synapses told him to do when faced with a stranger.

 “Craigory Thomas Tucker!” Horrified, Thomas had scooped him up and handed him over to Laura, apologizing profusely to the Vargas man.

To their surprise he was met with a full bellied laugh and “Oh, he’s a Tucker all right.” Paulo’s green eyes radiated the sun rays tattooed onto his forearm. The enforcer quickly sobered and regarded the four families, “The war is over, Remus is dead, and I wish to discuss our current situation and ask how you will wish to proceed.”

Laura rose a brow, “How do you mean?”

“May I come in?”

As if they could say no to a Vargas.

It was the same story Craig would later hear when he was 19 and told to him by the Vargas’ prince’s twin brother. About how the ordeal had gotten too out of hand for a single man to handle it without support. How, once upon a time, Romulus had made friends with revolutionary thinkers who had gone on to become politicians in their tiny country of Genovia. Friends who wanted to help their dear Romulus while simultaneously take advantage of the dark empire the Vargas found themselves rulers of.

A deal had been made and it was sealed in Vargas blood.

“Don Romulus shot him,” asked Laura in hopeful disbelief.

Paulo nodded, “Power for our kind can’t be given. Only taken.”

“So Romulus is—”

“Your King, yes, but only if you want him to be.”

Paulo explained how despite the war being done, that their work was far from finished. It was acknowledged by the five remaining dominating allies that what the underworld had to offer wasn’t worth the pain it demanded as payment. So, Romulus and his two friends decided that he would keep his family’s status as mob royalty but only to control the beast.

“We can’t do it alone, though,” said Paulo, watching the families carefully.

Mr. Black glanced down at the boys who were quietly playing with blocks before turning back to the Italian, “What would that mean for us, if we join you? If anyone finds out that we are…what would we be exactly?”

“Hounds.”

“Dogs?”

“No, _Hounds_. Brothers and sisters of an ancient Vargas Organization known as the Hounds of The Republic. My father is reinstating the organization with our allies as his agents to slowly eradicate the mob from civilized society. It will take perhaps our lifetime, but,” Paulo chuckled at Craig who gave him the finger again, “we have high hopes for the next generation.”

“And if we say no,” asked Mr. Donovan.

“We would never force you. Rest assured, you have all done more than enough for us.”

Thomas and Laura all looked to their friends, all silently reaching the same verdict. Licking his lips, Thomas asked, “And if we say yes?”

Gratitude nearly made Paulo tremble with excitement, “Then you and your family will be relocated to a private island in the—it’s undisclosed for security purposes but it is owned by both the Vargas and my wife’s family, the Blaze.” He pulled out documents to show them, “It is impossible for those who do not know how to get there to find it. The safety for our agents’ families is of our utmost priority.

“The Hounds are trained in Genovia and deployed on missions throughout Europe and the Americas to establish Vargas presence to allow us to absorb the gangs there. The more syndicates we have under the Sun, the more we can control the activity. We can restore you to your family’s glory if you wish it or you can start over. Whatever you decide, we can make happen.”

In situations such as these, synapses are fired within your brain. Among the parents’ brains, their synapses made primal instincts of loyalty warm their blood. For Thomas, the chance of redemption for the Tuckers coursed alongside loyalty to the Vargas. For Rodger Donovan, the chance of security for his son to live comfortably. For Steve Black, the chance to correct the wrongs his family had been forced to do under Remus’ rule. Which is precisely how the three families found themselves uprooted from their wintery home and moved to a more tropical area in an undisclosed island.

Craig hadn’t been happy about this. Not necessarily because he was moving somewhere new because, Craig being Craig, he hadn’t given a shit about that on the account that his best friends were moving with him.  What he did give a shit about, however, was the fact that there was no snow where he was going and therefore he would never get a chance to see that beautiful opalescent color again.

In a last desperate attempt to take it with him, Craig filled a suitcase with snow only to find that it had melted on the way to the airport. His parents couldn’t even be mad at him because the boy had broken down in tears when he saw what had happened to his precious snow.

“Oh, sweet boy,” murmured Laura as she scooped him up, “you’ll see snow again.”

Hiccupping, Craig stared forlornly down at the puddle in his suitcase, “But my pretty colors…”

“Were only reflected in the snow, darling. You don’t need snow to see it because the colors came from the sky.”

“Huh?”

“Come, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Craig didn’t fall asleep during the flight like Token and Clyde. Instead, he listened intently as his mother told him stories her grandmother told her about Inti, the Incan God of sun and sky. It eventually led to a gentle scientific explanation of the ozone layer around the planet and sun light breaking apart to different colors that we see when the sun sets and rises. This was the third most vivid memory and when they landed, Craig had demanded to go to the library.

He couldn’t read of course, but his dad was more than happy to oblige if it meant he would be happy about their new home. It was at the library where Craig and his friends befriended another boy their age, Jimmy Valmer, much to the younger boy’s delight as well as Red Tucker. Upon seeing each other, the two cousins flipped each other off, another synaptic reaction.

Despite new friendships made to keep him distracted, it did suck that he didn’t get to see snow anymore. Sure, the colors he adored were easily seen by simply staring up into the sky but he often found himself getting distracted by the stars and trying to plot planet locations. Also, his dad wasn’t around as much as he had been, but it sucked even worse when, on the eve of his 17th birthday, he fell asleep without memory of having done so and woke up feeling too hot and blinking up at a bright translucent gold ceiling with a giant Sun with a V in the center staring back down at him. He was all too familiar with that damn Sun because he had seen it on his father’s arm enough times to know that he had been summoned to answer the same call his and his friends’ dads had been.

“Normal 17-year-old boys get a car for their birthday,” droned Craig in a nasally voice that had followed him straight through puberty. Around him were several other seventeen through nineteen-year-old teenagers, most excited other nervous. He was neither.

Sighing, he wiped the sweat on his forehead away with his sleeve, “Normal 17-year-old boys don’t get drugged by their dads, blind folded, then dumped in some rich dude’s gym. Normal 17-year-old boys don’t have to—”

“Jesus Christ, dude!” Token nudged him with his foot, “Get up and shut up. I get it, you’re an angsty 17-year-old boy. A lot of us normal 17-year-old boys are pretty stoked to be here. I mean look at Clyde!”

True enough, Clyde was buzzing around looking at everything with glittering eyes, stopping every now and again to talk to one of their fellow recruits.

Craig shook his head, “Wait, where the hell is Jimmy?”

Clyde and Token had woken up next to him but there was no sign of their friend. They didn’t get far in searching for him because one moment they were questioning other recruits and the next they were drenched in water. Well, all save Clyde who had noticed that they were all standing on a tarp and had curiously stepped away, resulting in said water to fall upon his unsuspecting cohorts.

“Dude, what the fuck,” cried someone indignantly.

Clyde quickly scurried back next to Craig and Token while the others glared around to see what or who had triggered the damn water to collapse on them. He looked at his friends with wide misty eyes, “I swear, I have no idea that that was going to happen.”

“Then let this be a lesson to you,” said a lightly accented voice from behind them.

The recruits turned around, most gasping when they saw who had spoken to them.

A group of men dressed in dark red shirts with a thin outline of a black dog howling at a sun stood before them. Three identical men, each had an initial S, B, and O stitched on to their right sleeve, stood out to Craig. Mostly because of how similar they looked to the man who had taken his and his friend’s families to the island.

The one with the letter B walked ahead and offered Clyde a towel, “My mentor did this to us when we were pups only she did it with glue, water, and glitter. The only one that was spared was my brother Seraph over there and that’s cause he saw her shoe and climbed up these beams. It is meant to teach you the most important lesson you will ever learn here at the Ludus: Be aware of your surroundings. Today it was only water but someday it could be a piece of evidence that means your ally is actually your enemy, a weak spot in the wall that means you can blow up to escape, or a pair of eyes that will tell you more than words or actions ever could.”

Craig stared at the man before him before flipping him off, rousing various gasps and nervous chuckles from his cohort.

Blinking at the aggressive finger, Bernardo’s golden eyes lit up in recognition. So _this_ was the cheeky Tucker boy his dad was always talking about. He bit his tongue and handed out more towels, “So how ‘bout a tour?”

The whole facility, as it turned out, was located under ground the city of Victrola in Genovia, a micronation tucked away between France and Italy. They didn’t get to go to the Doghouse yet because it was the heart and soul of the operations and that was off limits for now. The Ludas on the other hand was just one of the two locations they had as of now with the second one being in the United States.

“Half of you will be transferred over there once we figure out where you all belong,” said Bernardo cheerfully.

He started them out at the leisure gym that housed a five-story tall rock wall at the far back side, various training equipment, and a pool at the center. Moving on, he showed them where their dorms were, the classrooms.

“Wait, is this a school,” asked one of the recruits with a thick French accent who smelled like he had been born with a cigarette in his mouth. Sure enough as soon as he asked, he took one out and brought it to his lips, only for it to get snatched from his mouth by one of the men with Bernardo.

He spoke to the recruit in French, making the boy’s eyes widen and hand over all of his packets along with a pouch of tobacco and lighter. Bernardo nodded to his fellow Hound, “Thank you, French Poodle. Another lesson to you guys: Never smoke at the Ludus. This is going to be your home away from home and here we train to ensure that your body can keep you safe but it can’t do that if you don’t treat your body with respect and keep yourself healthy. And to answer your question, kid, yes. This is a school.

“The first year here will teach you the basics: 2 languages that you will build on during the rest of your training until your K9 assessment before graduation, literature and fine arts, math…”

As Bernardo prattled on about their lessons in the years to come, Craig glanced around them. So this is what his life will be for the next few years. He had to admit, the idea of becoming a Hound was pretty cool but it was so much work. Was it even worth the damn effort?

The tour took them to more areas of the Ludus such as the dorms and cafeteria, the infirmary where they met an albino doctor and his brothers who were teachers to the Hounds who wanted to specialize as pack medics. Their final stop was a sparring room where they were presented with 7 circles.

Bernardo and his men went to stand in a circle each. He clapped his hands, “Welp, for now this concludes this facility’s tour. If this is something you still wish to pursue, now is the time where you choose who you want to teach you. There is my cousin, Francis, codename: French poodle. My good friend Antonio, Codename: Catalan Sheepdog.” He listed off a few more before pointing to his brother, “My older-by-four-minutes brother Seraph, codename Cerberus. My little brother by 2 minutes Oswaldo, codename Cerberus. And me! Bernardo, codename Cerberus! Okie dokie, now choose.”

“But how are we supposed to when we don’t really know anything about you,” said a recruit with thick, loose blond curls and hazel eyes, “Who are you?”

Clyde sputtered incredulously, “Wh-who is he? Who are _you_? He just told us he’s Bernardo. The fact that he has a V inside his sun tattoo means he’s a Vargas, which makes him Bernardo Vargas, five time world heavyweight boxing champion, but forget that. The fact that his tattoo is on his forearm means he’s an enforcer and the fact that his code name is Cerberus, and his brothers’ code names are Cerberus, a Greek Hellhound, means that they are a Hellhound!”

“But they’re three guys. How —”

“Cerberus _has_ three heads _,_ pal,” huffed Clyde with a scowl as he crossed his arms. Honestly, it didn’t take a genius to read Bernardo’s story when the man wore it on his body.

Muffled laughter arose from the Hounds standing in their circles as a pleased blush worked its way onto Bernardo’s face. He giggled quietly before directing a question to the recruit who had asked him who he was, “What’s your name?”

“Gregory, sir,” he responded.

“Well, Gregory this will only be for the first year. If you don’t like your selected mentor’s teaching methods or he doesn’t like you, you will be re-evaluated and be given the option to choose another.” Smiling pleasantly again, Bernardo motioned to the cohort, “Pick your mentors gentlemen! Land a hit on us and you get to stay. We hit you three times you’re out of the circle and have to go somewhere else. If you don’t have a mentor by the 8th try, you are shit out of luck and have to go into a different program to be a handler instead.”

Panicked, everyone scattered to form a line at different circles. Clyde whimpered from his place next to Craig, “Guys, I don’t want to be a handler. I want to be an agent. I want to be a Hound!”

“I’m pretty sure that handlers are also called Hounds,” said Token as he watched the two Frenchmen spar. “Do you guys have an idea who you want to mentor us?”

Craig eyed Antonio’s graceful movements that resulted in Gregory falling on his ass and snorted, “I don’t think I can take on that dude. He’s pretty fast.” He glanced over at Oswaldo who appeared to favor kicking and shook his head at the strange glint in his eye when he knocked over his partner, “And that dude looks like he’s a little too into kicking our ass.” Finally, his eyes landed on Seraph, who effortlessly blocked punches and kicks with a bored, sleepy expression.

His heart quickened in excitement. He looked so cool! If someone was going to mentor him on how to be a badass, it had to be him. No doubt he would rub off on him and make Craig’s already apathetic expression work in his favor. This guy was named Cerberus and if he could make it to that rank with a face like that, then he no doubt had millions of things he could teach Craig that—

“I want Bernardo,” announced Clyde. He paused before adding, “No homo.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Token muttered, “Damnit, Clyde, we know what you meant.”

“Heh, so we try our luck with him?”

“Why not, he seems like a cool guy. What do you think, Craig?”

The recruit Bernardo had been sparring with ducked a punch and faked a left before dropping to the ground and hitting the older man on his leg. He grinned at him as he popped back up, “You never told us where to hit you, just that we needed to.”

“Ha,” laughed Bernardo, “I like that. What’s your name?”

“Jason, sir. Jason White.”

“Well, alright then, Jason. You’re my second which means I only have 3 more spots left. Anyone else want a turn?”

Dread filled Clyde’s belly as he turned to grip Craig’s hand, “Did you hear that? What if I can’t take him?”

Token looked uneasy as he watched Bernardo dodge his next partner’s punches with the ease only a seasoned boxer could before tripping his opponent and calling out for a challenger.

Craig watched him too, trying to find a weak spot. Unfortunately, they were just teenagers and this dude had years of training. It was hardly fair. He glanced behind him where Seraph had accepted Gregory and the Frenchman who apparently went by Mole, his real name was Christophe, under his wing, filling up all five of his slots. Sighing, he resolved to settle for Bernardo.

He supposed that behind his cheerful face, he had a thing or two to show him. And if not, he could always switch to someone more like him—Seraph. Nodding, he pulled his friends close and whispered, “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do…”

After he explained how they were going to all secure the last three slots as Bernardo’s students, Clyde went next. He nearly vibrated with excitement as he positioned himself in the defensive stance Thomas had taught them. He circled around him, forcing Bernardo to follow him like a magnet, eyes not leaving his form until he positioned the Italian with his back to Craig before launching his attack.

As expected, Bernardo blocked and slapped Clyde’s shoulder twice before grinning, “That’s one and tw—hey!” A hand reached out and slapped the back of his head, startling him and momentarily distracting him enough for Token and Clyde to get their one hit in on his chest and stomach.

“That means we’re yours,” asked Craig. He jutted his chin out to Bernardo’s head, “Sorry about that. Keep track of your surroundings though, right?”

Bernardo couldn’t help himself and laughed, “Yeah, that’s-I guess you're right. Damn.”

“I can't wait to get started,” said Clyde.

Token reached out to shake his mentor’s hand, “We leave our training in your hands.”

Motioning for them to follow him out of the sparing room, Bernardo led the three boys and Jason to an empty classroom. He took a seat on the floor and said, “Alright. The fifth member is at the infirmary, but he will catch up with us soon. In the meantime, I want to get to know you guys. Anyone want to start?”

“You already know our names.”

“But I want to know _you_. Why are you here?”

Clyde’s hand shot up, “Oh, oh! Can I go first?” When Bernardo nodded, Clyde grinned, “Ok, so my name is Clyde Donovan. I grew up with my dad in South Park, Colorado with Craig and Token but we all moved to an island. I’m not sure what the name is but it was super pretty. I am 17 years old and I am here cause I want to prove to myself and my dad that I was worth his sacrifice.”

He glanced down as he fiddled with the hem of his t shirt, “I—uh, I know he loves me, and he didn’t become a Hound like my friend’s dads cause he didn’t want me to grow up without the only parent I have but I really want to do this. I want to be the best Hound ever for the both of us, and if I can help save people along the way then that’s the icing on the cake.”

Bernardo reached over to gently squeeze Clyde’s hand, “I will do my best to help you achieve your goals, Clyde.”

“Um, can I go next?” Jason raised his hand and lowered it when Bernardo gave him the go ahead. He inhaled deeply and started, “Well, my name, as I said, is Jason White. I’m 19 years old and I am the last White male in my family. Well, there is actually just me and my sister but she is still at the island. My family, the Whites, were really toxic and destructive during Remus’ reign. During the war, my mom ran away with my little sister and me but my dad caught up and killed her for kidnapping us. I was only five but I knew what right and wrong was. I knew that my dad was wrong and mom only wanted us to grow up outside the evil that is the mob, uh no offense.”

“None taken.”

“Um, well, yeah. Pretty much I saw my dad kill my mom point blank and had it not been for your dad actually, who was in the States, my little sister and I would probably still be with him. I’m forever grateful to Mr. Paolo for taking us away from that monster and giving us a chance to grow up with a nice family at the island. I made sure that my sister would be ok without me before asking to be brought here. I want to repay you for giving me and my sister a home, a family, for never letting us know what hunger or loneliness was when we were ready to open our hearts again. There are so many ways my life could’ve gone south and the cycle would just repeat itself but you took a chance and gave me this opportunity to repay your kindness.”

“The Vargas didn’t do it so that you would feel indebted—”

“Wait, sir, let me finish,” interrupted Jason, fighting back tears, “I know you guys don’t need me but I am still grateful for the opportunity to be here. My family has a lot of crimes that I need to atone for.” He rose his hand to stop Bernardo from objecting, “I know I don’t _need_ to but I _want_ to. I may not have committed those crimes but there are blood stains on my family’s name and I want to do as much good as I can to balance the scale.”

Bernardo carefully nodded, “Ok. I understand what you mean. My family started the modern Hounds of The Republic for that very reason, but I hope you understand that we aren’t government agents. We are private and a secret organization that works with select few trusted government officials to cleanse the world of the virus that is organized crime. My great grandfather started the foundation of the Vargas Empire, Remus expanded and built it with blood and crimes against humanity. Romulus intends to use our influence to overtake other Families in order to eradicate them from our society. It’s a hydra however, and with more beheadings of the monster by national governments, the more heads the monster grows.

“Make no mistake, we _do_ do good but, because we operate on our own and we are still children of the mob, we are able to do things that are not so legal or so righteous. We obey only our king and therefore we must trust in him to not abuse the power he has over our actions. Someday, maybe we won’t be needed but until the day comes when governments learn to control crime lords in a more effective manner, we are the nations guard dogs and we will protect the innocents to the absolute best of our ability.” Smiling sweetly, the corners of Bernardo’s eyes crinkled, “So who’s next?”

Craig mentally sighed in relief when Token volunteered. What they hell was he supposed to say? Why were they even doing this, they all already knew each other's names, why the whole life story? He tried to think of something to say as Token discussed how his father was the healer of his pack and that it was something that he personally had been interested in. As he continued to discuss his own family and their past, Craig tried to organize words in his head that would make him look at least somewhat like he hadn't been dragged into the Ludus by his dad. When it was finally his turn, he exhaled deeply, "I'm..."

~.~

By the week’s end, there was still no sign of Jimmy, which if Craig was being honest, was pretty fucked up considering how fucking inclusive the damn Family was. By the end of the second week, he was quick to eat his words, however, when Jimmy strolled out without his crutches announcing that he was their pack’s fifth member. Clyde cried at the sight and immediately hugged him. Token offered a watery smile and grasped his shoulder. Craig stared at the miracle contraption on Jimmy’s legs that was allowing him to walk sans assistance then up at the Vargas Sun tapestry that hung along the far wall of the cafeteria.

Maybe there was a reason why their parents were so loyal to this family after all.

Years of grueling training trudged by without much change. Craig had grown rather fond of his mentor who knew how to perfectly balance fun with work and never judged any of them when they didn’t get something the first time. Unfortunately, he was still an active operative and would sometimes leave their training to an older Hound in order to take care of his own missions. He always came back, though. Of course, only to be greeted with overzealous hugs from his pack of pups, including Craig who, under Bernardo’s tutelage, had slowly come out of his shell and was beginning to express himself better.

And that wasn’t the only thing that changed. Over the years, Craig grew taller, standing at six feet and four inches. He got bulkier too. Smarter. Faster. Deadlier.

They all did and by the time he was 20, he had already been singled out to be a potential alpha of a pack. Why these people couldn’t have normal ranking titles was beside him, but he supposed it came with the territory of being known as The Hounds of The Republic.

It was also at age twenty that something rather scary had happened that resulted in secrecy among the Vargas and the older Hounds and the pups. Craig and his pack were far from pups anymore but his father had refused to tell him why the Vargas agents had tightened their circle of confidants.

The only vivid memory he has of that time, was that Bernardo had a haunted look in his eye and would sometimes ask for hugs from his pups. He suspected it had something to do with all the horrible things that had happened so consecutively to his family but always made sure to squeeze extra tight when his mentor needed reminding that he was appreciated and loved.

Nearly a year and a half later, the King himself had graced their dining hall with his grandson in tow. Clyde gasped and shook Craig’s shoulder, resulting in his applesauce to drip all over his shirt. Growling, Craig shoved him away, “Dude, what the fuck?”

Unbothered, Clyde whispered-screamed, “It’s him!”

“Him who?”

“Him!”

Token, ever one to keep the peace, glanced at the general direction of where the Vargas usually congregated and spat out his drink, “Holy shit.”

Glancing over himself, Craig held in a gasp of his own. There standing with his fingers intertwined with another man was Feliciano Vargas himself. The other man was no doubt his husband Ludwig Beilschmidt-Vargas. The crowned prince and his queen to be. Rumor had it that Ludwig refused to be referred to anything but.

The king was saying something to him and his fellow Hounds, but Craig couldn’t tear his gaze away from his prince and Ludwig. Were things really this relaxed here? Could he also be with a boy and it be okay? He glanced over to his father who had been eating with his own pack and was shocked to find the burly man smiling warmly at their future leader, nodding with approval when Ludwig spoke up about his intent to train alongside his husband and their Hounds.

Craig glanced back at the couple and tensed when he saw the prince staring back at him, relaxing immediately when Feli smiled and waved.

Over the next following weeks, Craig continued to watch Feliciano as they trained side by side. Clyde of course, attempted to hog all of his attention but the prince must’ve been well versed in working with children because he took it all in stride. He hadn’t been at all prepared when he was cornered by him.

Nervous, Craig put down the weights he had been lifting and bowed, “H-hello.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said the older man with a sheepish laugh, “I’m not really royal.”

“Royal enough.” Realizing that sincerity was lost with his monotone voice, Craig winced and attempted to apologize but stopped when Feli waved them away and motioned for Craig to follow him to a rock wall.

They chalked up their hands and helped each other with a harness. The prince winked and hauled himself up onto the first rock, “I was given a list of potential Pack Alphas. And I wanted to speak to each of you individually to give feedback.”

“And rock climbing is the way you want to go about this interview?” Again, Craig wanted to bite his damn tongue. It was going to get him into trouble someday but before he could clear his throat to apologize, he heard his prince laugh. Smiling to himself, he reached up for a blue rock and then a red one, his foot testing a yellow rock before deciding to go with a purple one instead.

“Well, you’re obviously not kissing my ass, so yeah.” Chuckling to himself, he continued, “It isn’t just an alpha position that you’re a contender for. It’s…well, a position higher than that but before we even get into that, I need to know.” Pausing for a break, Feli turned his eye to Craig, “Why are you here?”

Taken aback, Craig looked down the two stories they had climbed then at his prince, “Uh…you asked me to climb with you?”

“I know you know exactly what I’m asking.”

No mirth, no laughter.

Craig couldn’t bring himself to look away, nor could he bring himself to lie. He rubbed at the rock he was holding onto, the rough texture grounding him as he tried to collect his thoughts. Why _was_ he here?

An image of his friends training with him came to mind. Clyde loved this shit, being a secret agent or whatever. Token was their medic and loved spending time with his medical mentor in the hospital owned by Ludwig’s family. And Jimmy, well between speech therapy to better control his stutter and intense training for data analyzing, he was well on his way to becoming their handler. But where did that leave him?

They already saw him as their leader. As pups they were grouped together to train under Bernardo, but he had still always been their rock. His natural tendency to lead them had been obvious since they were kids but, in the end, it had been him who had figured out how to get what his friends wanted and ensure that they stay together during this part of their journey. He didn’t want to stop being useful to them or else he’d be left behind. That was what this all boiled down to.

Sure, he always said that he was just along for the ride, but the ride would stop at some point and he didn’t want to get left behind. Had he been born into a normal family, he probably would’ve been very content to live a boring life with a guinea pig.

But no.

That hadn’t been in his cards and now here he was gripping onto rainbow colored rocks while the Prince of the Underworld was interviewing him for a leader position and—he found himself blurting out, “Why are you?”

Knife. He needed a knife to cut the cord from his harness and welcome the sweet embrace of the concrete floor below him. That would hurt less than whatever hell this guy—literal Vargas _heir_ — would no doubt put him through for questioning his position. Jesus Christ.

Mentally whining to himself, Craig squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall against the rock wall. His dad was going to fucking murder him.

“That’s a fair question.” Feli reached up to continue his ascent, glancing down at Craig expectantly before continuing when the younger man followed, “It’s a long story, one that I would be more than happy to share with you someday. I guess, the short version of it is because I chose to. Being born into a world at war is one thing but seeing it manifest right in front of you and being absolutely powerless to stop it…I thought I had nothing left to lose when it was over. My dad was murdered before my eyes, friends and family members were exterminated like vermin.

“I spent my teenage and young adult life up not wanting anything to do with this damn organization. I put myself through college and got my doctorate in astrophysics—are you ok?”

Astrophysics. This man has a PhD in astrophysics. Craig was positive his eyes had literal stars in them as he stared up at his prince in wonder. He barely felt the sting on his knee from where it had been scraped against a colored rock and he pushed himself to continue, “I’m sorry. It’s just that I would never had imagined that you like space.”

“Like it? I love it! My dad and I used to go on the hilltops in our villa in Italy and watch the stars. Specifically the Cara Ene Nebula.”

“I know that one! An Italian astronomer named it. Um, doctor Cesare Sapienti, right?”

“My dad, yes~”

“Y-your—shit!” In his shock, Craig accidentally miscalculated his next move and slipped, narrowly falling all together. He felt Feli’s gloved hand, warm on his skin where the Vargas Sun had been tattooed on his forearm grip him tight as if he would prevent him from falling to his death. Not that he would; his harness did its job, but it was the thought that very much counted.

Craig couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks as his prince fussed over him as he helped him securely find his grips, “Thank you, Dr. Vargas.”

“Just Feli is good.”

“Ok _, Just Feli_.” This time, Craig couldn’t help but grin up at the Italian, grinning harder when it was returned.

“Heh, we are going to have to get together one night and look at the sky sometime. Maybe even discuss space.”

“I’d seriously love that. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends here and my pack but I think there is only so much space talk they are willing to hear from me.”

“Bernardo loves hearing you talk about it. He cares so much about all of you. I know he thought you hated him at first but I’m glad that you boys stuck by him after the preliminary year. He was the one who recommended you actually.”

“Hm.”

“There are monsters out there, Craig. You’ve studied them and fought them on your missions but those were imps in comparison to the creatures I’ve seen. You asked me earlier why I am here and my answer is because there are people out there that should never be anywhere near civilized society. My grandfather has done his best, but I am going to pick up the mantle someday soon, and when that happens, the only thing standing in front of those monsters are me and my Hounds. I won’t let them taint my country, I won’t let them anywhere near my friends or family. I won’t let them touch a hair on the innocents either.”

Stunned by such a noble answer, Craig slowed his ascent to shake his head, “I don’t have an answer as good as that.”

“I don’t want you to. I just want you to be honest with yourself. Do you want to be here? Be a Hound?”

When they finally reached the top, Craig reached up to press both buttons to add tension to their harness and reverse the pulley. Sighing, he looked at his prince, “I’m sorry. I _do_ want to be a Hound. I can honestly say that I’ve enjoyed my time here, but I don’t know how to answer your question. If I am honest, I didn’t look to become one. I’m only here because my dad assumed I wanted this. I am neither happy nor aggravated by what I am. I just…am?”

Feli’s face was unreadable as he lowered himself in silence. He studied Craig’s face once more before taking off his harness, “Okay. I appreciate the honesty. You are a real neutral kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“I guess?”

“Still, so young for what they want for you. I wish you knew what you wanted for you but I barely figured out what I wanted two years ago, and I had to walk through hell in order to realize that I didn’t really know what I wanted until I did.”

“Uh…”

“I hope your realization comes at a lesser price,” said the prince with a sincerity that Craig wanted to bottle up and keep. His mother was probably the only person who spoke to him like that and he really missed it. “If you wish it, I will give the approval for the second portion of your training.”

“And what’s that?”

* * *

 

Thomas had found out about Craig’s interview a few days after and had tracked his son down in the fitness center hitting a punching bag. He didn’t give Craig a chance to voice his opinions on the matter and only boasted about how proud he was of him bringing honor to the Tucker name and to choose his second name carefully because apparently _Inca Orchid_ wasn’t exactly a name that inspired fear.

Biting his tongue, all Craig could say was that he would _make_ people fear it and only got a hearty squeeze on the shoulder. He was already content with his position now. Alpha was already something he knew he was, so that wasn’t the issue. His dad wasn’t an Alpha so it would already make him proud if Craig was named one. He didn’t need to go all out.

His father left to go call his mom to tell her the news before Craig could tell him his decision. He to follow when Clyde intercepted him on the way.

Clyde gripped his shoulder and shook him, “Dude, guess what Bernardo asked me?”

“Uh…”

“He wants me to go into the Hellhound program!”

Craig paused mid-step and tugged Clyde to the side of the hallway, “He did? What did you tell him?”

“Hell yeah! Bro, this is a dream come true to me! Hellhound? That’s like a top tier rank.”

“That’s not _like_ a top tier rank, it _is_ top tier rank.”

“And that means that even if you get picked as alpha for our pack, which I am all for, I can still go on solo operations,” Clyde shivered with excitement, “I can’t believe it! I’m so stoked about this!”

“Feli asked me if I wanted to do the program, too,” blurted out Craig. He watched his friend freeze and immediately knew that his decision to find Feliciano and tell him thank you but no thank you was for the best after all. Clyde deserved this opportunity more than he did and besides, Clyde actually had aspirations about advancing within the organization whereas he was just along for the ride.

“Are you for real?” Grinning, Clyde leapt at Craig and hugged him tight, “I am so proud of you! Oh my god, do you think they asked Token too? Timmy and Jason? Can you imagine all of us? A pack of Hellhounds?!”

He was so sincerely enthusiastic, that Craig hated to burst his bubble, “I’m not going to say yes.”

Clyde pushed him away enough to look at his face, “Why?”

“I-I don’t know, man. I’m already up for Alpha promotion and that’s already a lot of responsibility—”

“Nothing that you don’t already do.”

“And I don’t even really know what a Hellhound does…” Craig trailed off to an uncomfortable silence, fighting the urge to pull away all together from Clyde as his best friend stared him down pensively. Growing up with him, or even glancing at him for the first time, you would never think that Clyde is more than just a crybaby dork. Of course, he still cried easily but behind all of that was a man capable of breaking down a situation quicker than a damn computer. If Jimmy wasn’t smarter than him still, there is no doubt that Clyde would be an excellent handler.

Craig was capable of that too but what separated the two was that Craig was able to process the information quicker and make split second decisions that have saved their asses more than once on missions. Having Clyde stare at him with his hazel brown eyes was pretty damn unnerving. It was almost akin to when their prince did it.

“Hm, ok,” said Clyde after one more moment of studying him. He released his hold on Craig’s shoulders  and checked his watch before reaching for his hand instead, “Come with me, dude. There is something you need to see before you decide anything.”

He led them to the elevator and didn’t allow anyone else to get inside with them before letting the iris scanner read both of their eyes and selecting the button with the lower portions of a dog’s skull engraved on it. Craig was about to remind Clyde that the elevator wouldn’t take them to that floor but to his amazement, it started to move, neither speaking until the doors opened with a ding.

“Come on, Craig.” Clyde walked past heavy glass doors that illuminated their rooms as sensors picked up on their movement.

Craig glanced at the rooms they walked past, most containing retired weapons and uniforms while the others only had filing cabinets. They finally stopped at the one furthest from the elevator with two wolf skeletons guarding the doors within their glass case on either side of the door.

“Those are two of the first Vargas’ Hounds,” whispered Clyde as he gently patted one of the glass cases over the head of the wolf, glancing at his watch, “They’re like hundreds of years old but they guard their most treasured things.”

“Wow.” Craig patted the other one, triggering the doors to open, “Wow!”

“Right? Come on, this is what I wanted to show you.”

Inside, the room was cold enough that they could see their breath. The lights slowly turned on one by one, illuminating a wine red mosaic wall of glass tiles. Tiny gold squares were carefully laid within the red sea in a circle and inside that were black, gray, and white paw prints with names.

“Clyde, what the hell is this?”

Clyde’s fingertips brushed against the paws as he said softly, “T _he Hound was half dead, when the king took him in. He fed him and gave him a hearth. He befriended the Hound and all the king asked for, was for the Hound to howl to the sun._ ”

The lights continued to slowly illuminate more paw prints within the circle, forcing Craig’s gaze back to it as Clyde continued to sing, “ _Ah-oo, said the Hound, as he tilted his head high. Ah-oo, said the Hound, as he howled to the sun._ ”

Craig felt Clyde gently pull him away from the mural so that they could see that the circle was actually the Vargas Sun filled with names of Hounds, both of those who had fallen in the past and those alive, and at that moment, Craig finally understood what the damn song they learned their first year at the facility meant.

“ _Ah-oo, all together, we’ll pierce the sky with our howl. Ah-oo, we’re the Hound and we wear the sun with pride._ ”

“It was never about us fighting for the Vargas,” said Craig. He looked at the curvy sun waves and how it appeared to be fighting off the red tiles while the paw prints offered its support.

“Not for them, no.”

“They want us to fight with them.”

“Yeah.”

“And Hellhounds?”

“Collect the souls of evil people.”

“God, Clyde, seriously? That’s too cheesy even for you.”

Pouting, Clyde halfheartedly punched Craig’s arm, “I’m serious! Look it.” He dragged Craig over to the right side of the room where there was a panel of glass separating another tiny room. It was dark but the light that managed to sneak into the room reflected off the platform inside. It was just enough for whatever was standing on it to cast ominous shadows. “Bernardo brought me here, that’s how I have clearance to this floor.” He fiddled with some buttons on the panel next to the window until he found the ‘on’ button.

A dim yellow light shined through the glass, followed by digital images that fell into view. Old uniforms that reminded them of something from the first Assassin’s Creed game morphed through the ages until it became the modern, black leather uniform that Cerberus wore now. The hidden blades that they wore on their wrist had also been modified to be able to switch between a poisonous dart shooter and a knife. Other parts of the uniform broke away on the glass until it settled on masks with horrifying snarling smiles on their snouts.

“If these were the last things people saw before a Hellhound killed them, well good.” Craig thought back to one of the S-ranked drug lords Cerberus was tasked to kill a month ago. He had read through the man’s file and it was enough to make him want to kill the asshole himself. “The fuckers deserve it for what they do.”

“Yeah.” Clyde glanced at his watch once more.

“Ok, what the fuck, dude? Why the hell do you keep looking at your watch?”

“Give it two minutes and you’ll see.”

After the mini history lesson via photographs concluded, the glass panel went dark and a dim blue light turned on inside. Craig pressed himself closer to look inside and saw more cases with retired uniforms lining the left and right walls. At the center was the stage with four shadowed mannequins that stood limp. On either side of the stage were two elevated tables, one had a scythe and a sniper gun and the other had two chakram and what looked like a steel whip. Above the stage was a case with an assortment of handguns and knives.

When Clyde’s alarm went off, the stage began to groan. Craig’s eyes widened as the mannequins’ fingers began to move one by one, stretching wide and creating a fist. Their heads turned this way and that as if working off a kink in their necks.

“You know,” said Clyde conversationally as if the things on the stage weren’t moving, “those uniforms belong to the first four Hellhounds that were trained when Romulus started the organization again. I thought Paolo had been the first but then I forgot his code name is Typhon, which is cool cause he is basically the father of Hellhounds you know?”

Transfixed as spot lights hit the uniforms one by one, making the mannequins stretch its arms and legs out, Craig could only nod as he took in the two mannequins in the back. One was shorter than the rest, its uniform a black sleeveless shirt with gloves reaching to the elbows. The mask’s eyes glowed pale blue.

“That one was codenamed Fenris. He is a dude from Finland.”

Craig caught the present tense form of what his friend said, “Is?”

“He’s still alive, just not active anymore. None of them are.” Another spotlight hit the mannequin next to Fenris and it stretched its own limbs, the night vision activating as well making the eyes glow lavender. “That one is Barghest. He is from Canada and favored the scythe because it reminded him of his hockey stick. His thing was beheading his targets.” The next spot light turned on and the mannequin squatted down before stretching out its spine, the night vision of his mask glowing green. “That one is Chimera. Ironically, he isn’t a fan of dogs and prefers cats but…yeah. He’s family to the prince on his father’s side so obviously he was part of this thing, right?”

“Obviously.”

“This last one is my favorite.” The last one was about the same height as the first, though it had noticeably wider hips from its counterparts. It reached down to touch its toes before raising itself up and stare ahead with its arms crossed.

“What’s with the mask? Did the night vision not work?”

“Well, according to Bernardo, Anubis didn’t need night vision light. Of course, it could be that the uniform was just never upgraded because hers was the prototype of the newer ones.”

The pronoun didn’t go unnoticed and Craig immediately turned to Clyde with an amused grin, “So there _were_ girls here. It’s not the sausage fest it is today?”

“That’s what _I_ said! I was like, Bernardo, my man, what the fuck did you guys do to scare away the ladies? Only, he got this look on his face and didn’t answer. Seraph was here, too, showing this place to _ze Mole_ and was all like they left the day _she_ left. He didn’t say anything else after that, but he was very pissy about it.”

Craig thought back to two years before his 17th birthday and remembered how his dad had stormed inside their home at the island ranting to his mom about some bitch fucking the Hounds over by poaching all of their female operatives. Not that Craig gave a shit, his synapses only reacted to guys anyway.

“Anywho,” said Clyde after the mannequins went back to their original positions, “those robot things stretch because they need to keep the uniform like the original four are still wearing them in case they ever come back. Apparently after you enter the Devil’s Contract, you’re kinda obligated to come back to serve as captains in times of war. Of course, it’s not like we’re ever going to see a war so I’m not exactly tripping over signing my name to be a Hellhound.”

“Clyde, did you bring me here in hopes that I agree to do this stupid thing?”

“I mean, I love you, dude. You’re my brother but I’m going to do this whether you decided to do it too or not.” He paused a moment before sheepishly asking, “But it’d be awesome if you did do this with me. Did it work?”

The Hounds were an ancient group who proudly howled to the Sun. Their spiritual DNA passed down to their heirs in teachings and, if you believed in such things, their blood. Craig didn’t have the same desire to make a name for himself like Clyde, a sense of duty like Token or Jason, or eager desire to help people like Jimmy—all qualities that his fellow Hounds appeared to share. But he _did_ like his crowned prince and the Vargas were down to earth people considering they held the literal underworld in the palm of their hands. Not to mention, there was one thing that Craig wouldn’t stand for.

Giving one last glance at the uniforms of his predecessors and then to the sun, Craig looked back at Clyde and grinned, “As if I’m going to let you become cooler than me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to have something else in a few weeks. Summer break started so my work days should end sooner given that my patients all stick to the schedule I gave them! Thank you again for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> LHNR was created with Hetalia characters but they will only appear in this chapter and maybe mentioned in others. For the most part, just my OCs will jump between the two stories and I really hope you love them as much as I and my other readers do. Of course, this story is about Tweek and Craig, so about 90% of the characters will be South Park Characters
> 
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> *The song Clyde sings goes to the tune of Hoist the Colors from the Pirates of The Caribbean. 
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> ~Until next time!


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